Unclean
by Crystarr
Summary: Hank fights for life, freedom and sanity in a Realm where a friend is an enemy, where an enemy is dead, and where the presence of simple dirt measures the consequences of a wrong decision. At long last, I'm getting back to writing!
1. Default Chapter

Three adventurers stumbled into the chamber, looking a lot worse for the wear. Diana looked the worst, covered in dirt, bruises and cuts. Eric looked little better, with one particularly bad bruise on his temple and his clothes torn and ripped. Presto looked tired and worn, though not as battered as his friends. He managed to stay on his feet as the other two sank to their knees.

"Guys?" Hank asked gently. "Are you OK? What happened?"

"Orcs..." Eric panted. "So, SO many Orcs..."

"Venger knows about the Ebony Door. He went after the same part of the key that we did." Presto sighed. "We ended up in this underground maze, fighting more Orcs than McDonalds has fries!"

"But you're OK, aren't you?" Sheila worried.

"Thanks to Diana. I never would have thought she could fight like that against so many bad guys..."

Eric nodded. "I particularly liked the way she took down that one guy with a single smack to the head with her staff."

Diana slumped against the wall. "For the last time, Eric, it was dark, and I said I was sorry!"

Bobby chuckled. "So you beat up an entire Orc horde on your own?"

"No, just until Presto came up with something that got us out of there." At this, Diana and Eric both glared at Presto, who looked more than a little embarrassed. The others exchanged confused looks.

"What did he do?"

"You don't want to know. Really. I mean that." Eric reached into his torn tunic and pulled out a mud-splattered object, tossing it to Hank. "Here's our half. Please tell me you got your half too."

Hank caught the talisman half from the air, then pulled a much cleaner half out. "I guess we got lucky. The villagers just handed it over."

"They even gave us a huge meal!" Bobby smirked.

Eric groaned. "Of course. The three of us get beaten from here to the Granite Hills and back, and you guys have a lunch break. Next time, I'M going to the village, and you three can bang skulls with Horn-head!"

"If what Dungeon Master said is true, there may not be a next time." Hank indicated to an impression in a large door that had the same shape as the completed talisman would. "What was he said? 'Once in three lifetimes, the Ebony Door opens to he who bears the completed key. The Door opens to those with a focused direction, but holds both terror and enlightenment to the distracted.'"

"So, as long as we just keep home in our minds and don't think of anything else when we cross, we should get home." Sheila translated.

"And if we get distracted?" Presto asked gloomily.

"Let's not try and find out."

Hank faced the door. "Well, if this thing can lead us home, let's not hang around." The Ranger fitted the two pieces together and slid them into the impression. A moment passed, and then the door slid open with a slight scraping.

"That's a good sign." Diana remarked. "No flashes of light or thunder and lightning. Blasts of magical energy flying about are always a bad sign."

Hank chuckled. "What about when they're our blasts?"

Eric gave a sly grin. "Those are the worst. That means either Presto's got another spell wrong, or Venger's turned up..."

At that moment, the wall on the other side of the chamber exploded. Through the smoke and rubble came an all-too familiar figure in black and red...

"Oh, come on!" Eric wailed. "That wasn't an invitation!"

"There is no escape!" Venger growled. "Surrender your weapons and abandon the Door, or be destroyed!"

To punctuate his demand, Venger threw an energy blast at the friends. Eric immediately raised his shield, deflecting the blast away, but the impact sent waves of pain shooting down his arm.

"My arm!" Eric screamed, dropping the shield. "It's still hurt..."

Hank tightened a fist around his bow. His companions were getting ready to fight, but Eric, Diana and Presto were clearly still suffering from their earlier battle. Their options didn't look good.

"Bobby! We need a few seconds!"

"Right!" The Barbarian slammed his club into the floor, then into the wall next to him. Large pieces of rock and masonry were hurled towards Venger, who paused his advance to deflect the barrage.

"Everyone, back up!"

Bobby picked up Uni and ran for the chamber with the Door. Hank helped Eric grab his shield and follow, noting that Eric's arm was dislocated and slightly burned.

"Are you guys going to be OK?"

Presto shook his head while hurling a magical barrier between them and Venger. "I'm alright, but Diana exhausted herself fighting, and Eric took a lot of blows guarding me. They're out of it."

Hank looked at the Ebony Door, a simple black archway in the centre of the room which glowed dimly. "No choice then. Guys, run for the Door and think of home!"

Hank started to lead the way, but Venger was already through Presto's barrier. "Not so fast, Ranger!"

Venger's blast was almost upon Hank as he let loose an energy arrow to block it. Crying out, he staggered back, clutching his face.

"Damn it! I'm blind!"

"Then I shall end your pain!" Venger laughed. A globe of black energy appeared in his hand, and he made to hurl it at the injured Hank. But at the moment of release, an unseen force ploughed into his side as Sheila threw herself into him to wreck his aim.

The globe, rather than colliding into Hank's chest, impacted the ground just in front of him, sending Hank and several stone slabs flying. Some of the stone flew through the Door...as did the Ranger.

"Hank!" Bobby yelled. Turning his anguish into rage, he slammed his club into a large pillar. The pillar flew through two other pillars, turning into a flying rock swarm. This had two effects. The first was that Venger found himself suddenly buried in broken boulders. The second was that the roof started to come down.

"Hank!" screamed Sheila. The Thief dived through the Door, but rather than disappear from sight as Hank had, she simply hit the floor on the other side. The door was no longer glowing.

"We have to get out of here!" Presto grabbed Sheila's arm. She shook it off.

"We have to get him back!"

"We can't do anything here." Diana said weakly. "And if we stay here and get crushed, we'll never find a way to help him!"

"But..."

"Dungeon Master will know! But we have to run first!"

A large boulder crashed to the floor right next to them, taking half of the Door with it. Sheila shut her eyes, then nodded.

"Over here!" Bobby yelled. "Uni's found a way out!" The young Unicorn was next to him, bleating frantically at a hole in the wall. On the other side was fresh air...and a very steep mountainside.

"Oh great..." Presto groaned.

"There's no other way out!" Bobby insisted. "We have to go!"

The children slipped out of the hole and started a painful climb down. Unfortunately, the collapse of the small citadel they had just vacated caused a landslide. The adventurers found themselves caught up in the slide...

---

...and Sheila woke in a sunny glade, aching all over.

"Sis? You're alright!" Bobby grinned.

"Ugh...I think so. Is everyone..?"

Bobby's grin faded. "Well, I'm OK, so's Uni and Presto. But Diana's hurt her head, and Eric's in real bad shape."

Sheila sat up, ignoring the painful protests of her back. She saw Diana with a red-stained bandage on her head, staring at Uni as if she wasn't sure what she was seeing. Presto was tending to Eric, who was still unconscious.

"And...Hank?"

"The Ranger is not here."

"Dungeon Master?"

The small old man had appeared from out of nowhere. "If you'll forgive me for saying so, you do look quite a little mess."

Presto came over. "Dungeon Master?" he said in a quiet voice. "Diana's acting weirdly - I think it's her head injury. And Eric's a wreck. I can't get him to wake up."

"You are in luck, Magician. Less than an hour's travel to the west is a town called Eagledon. It is home to a school of healers which should be well equipped to aid your fallen comrades."

Sheila grabbed Dungeon Master by the shoulders. "What about Hank? He fell through that Door! Where is he?"

Dungeon Master sighed. "I am sorry. What lies beyond the Ebony door is beyond my sight. Only one who has walked through the Door unfocused has ever returned, a long time ago. He spoke only of terror and enlightenment. Yet his return may provide hope. If one can return from the Door, the Ranger may also."

"But can't we do anything?"

"In Eagledon there lives a Witch skilled in the art of Seeing. If it is possible to see your lost companion, then she would hold the skill. But I fear that even if you can find your friend, you will only be able to watch." The small man walked behind a tree. "Whatever lies in wait for the Ranger, he must face alone..."

Sheila didn't even bother trying to follow the Dungeon Master, knowing he'd be unlikely to still be there. "Come on, then. Let's get Diana and Eric to Eagledon!"

Presto reached into his hat. "Abracadabra, Go Up and Down, We need to get our friends healed in town!"

A moment later, a hospital stretcher was waiting in the glade.

"Er...better than nothing, I guess."

"Fine, fine. Help me get Eric onto it. Bobby, you and Uni lead Diana after us, OK?"

The group began their trek to Eagledon. Sheila's thoughts weren't with the journey, though. She could only think about what had happened to Hank. Where was he? Was he even alive?

---

Somewhere else, Hank woke up with a horrible taste in his mouth. He sat up and started on a terrible coughing fit to expel a lungful of dust and ash. After recovering enough to breathe easily, he looked around. His eyes still hurt, and his vision was a little blurred, but it was clearing up already. He started to stand up, pausing to pick up his bow which was thankfully lying just next to him, blinked several times, then looked at himself.

He seemed unhurt, but he was filthy. He was covered in mud, dirt and grit. Around him were a few chunks of stone from the Door's citadel, and a ruined village.

The village looked like it had burned, but the buildings were still standing. They showed signs of inflicted damage, but most of the dereliction seemed to have been caused by time and lack of maintenance rather than fire damage. Hank explored for a minute or two, and then found the bodies.

The bodies were stood in a mockery of a crowd in front of an old stage. As far as Hank could tell, they'd all been killed by a single precision blast to the chest. Hank found this odd. Either they'd all been hit at once by something that had been on the stage, or they'd just stood there and waited as someone had done some macabre target practise. Hank reached out and touched one of the corpses on the shoulder. His hand tensed as if hit by a small shock, and as one, the collection of bodies collapsed.

The sight of this collapse hit Hank with a mix of disgust, despair and horror. He backed up and tripped over a large rock, sweat pouring down his face. Several moments passed as he forced himself to get it together. He had to find a safe place to find his bearings, then try to find the others.

As he stood up, he noticed the next bizarre thing. He'd been filthy when he woke up, five minutes before. And now, he was as clean as if he'd just had a bath. Even his clothes felt fresh.

"What's happening? Where am I?!"


	2. Chapter 2

How long had it been? Days? Weeks? Wherever Hank was, there didn't seem to be much concept of days and nights. Murky clouds lurked in the sky, unusually still even in the foul wind that tossed the Ranger's hair about. The effect wasn't that of eternal darkness. It was more like an everlasting day of dim greyness.

Hank's body ached, and his stomach felt like it was attempting to digest itself. After leaving the ruined village he'd appeared in, he'd chosen a direction and walked in a straight line, or at least as much of one as he could. For most of his journey he'd walked through an unending field of blackened earth and crumbling rocks. There had been no towns, no paths, no animals, and no food. He had come across a stream once. The water had looked and felt more like a thin gritty oil than water, but it was either the stream or thirst. Hank had had to choke the liquid down, but it hadn't poisoned him.

One thing preyed on his mind, even through the tiredness and hunger. He could feel the sweat running down his skin, the general wear on his body, and had on a few occasions tripped and fallen in soil or mud. But his body remained completely clean, his clothes fresh as if newly ironed. As far has he could tell from his reflection in the dark stream, his face was just as clean. But that didn't make sense. He was a seasoned adventurer, and he knew perfectly well just how quickly constant travel made a mess of a traveller. No one walking for even a few hours stayed perfectly clean.

Finally, less than an hour ago, he'd found the edge of a forest. The trees were decrepit and damaged, much like the rest of the world Hank was trapped in, but it offered the possibility of animals, and food.

Hank explored the woods for a short time. Once he thought he saw a squirrel, but it disappeared before he could even blink. And then, as he reached the point of giving up, he found what looked like a deer. The animal was gaunt and wrinkled, but Hank wasn't feeling picky. As silently as he could, he drew his bow and fired an arrow.

The Ranger was hurled off his feet by a blast of crimson energy that shot through the deer before clearing a large gouge right through the forest. Chunks of burned meat and smouldering bone scattered around the rough clearing that had suddenly formed. Hank pulled himself back to a sitting position and gaped at his bow. The weapon had never fired an arrow that powerful before, not even in the Dragon's Graveyard. What had happened?

A stomach rumble drew his mind back to his hunger. The deer had been blasted into pieces, but there were still bits of meat scattered around, not even raw after the bow's attack. Hank hungrily grabbed the remains and forced them down, despite the disgusting taste that he'd suspected would follow.

After eating all he could find, Hank slumped on the ground, idly rubbing some mud off from his hand onto his top. Despair was growing within him. He wished he knew where he was, where the others were, how to just get them all home and end this seemingly never-ending trek through the Realm. At this moment, he'd just settle for Dungeon Master and one of his cryptic riddles.

Through the fatigue and despair, something grabbed Hank's attention. His hand was muddy, probably from the blast or from the ground he was now sitting on. But since the filth on him from his initial impact had vanished, he'd been unable to get even a little dirty here. And now that he looked, the mud still remained on his hand, while the leather with which he'd been trying to rub the dirt away was spotless.

"What..? What is this?"

---

In another, brighter Realm, Sheila was watching impatiently as a healer bandaged Diana's head.

"The herbs will make her tired for a day or two, but she'll be fine. Your other friend, the Cavalier...?"

"Eric." Presto supplied.

"...Eric will need a few days, but he too should recover."

Sheila grunted. Bobby gave her a worried look.

"Thanks, we appreciate it," Presto said. "Just one other thing. We were told we could find a Witch in this town. A Seer or something."

"That sounds like Rosemary," The Healer replied. "She lives just beyond the town walls, about ten minutes west of here..."

Sheila didn't wait for the Healer to finish. She turned and walked straight out of the building. Bobby looked at Presto for a moment, then turned and followed her, Uni trotting at his heels.

"Hey, sis! Wait up!"

Sheila slowed a tiny bit, but didn't stop. Bobby grabbed her by the wrist.

"Hold on a sec, Sheila. What's wrong?"

"Everything's wrong," Sheila cried. "Diana and Eric are both badly hurt. And Hank is...he's missing. Maybe even dead. And it's my fault!"

Bobby's eyes widened. "YOUR fault?! That's not true!"

"Isn't it? I knocked Venger's aim when he fired that last blast, and that's what knocked Hank through the Door. If I hadn't done that, Hank wouldn't be lost."

"Or he might be dead. Venger was trying to kill him. Listen, Sheila, when the Darkling's fog grabbed Hank, we didn't give up then – we found him safe and sound. Now we're gonna find this Rosemary person, get her to find Hank, and then get him back again!"

Uni bleated in agreement. Sheila sighed deeply, then forced a smile. "You're right Bobby. Come on, let's get going. Sooner the better, right?"

---

After a restless attempt at sleep and three hours of walking, Hank seemed to be finally approaching the other side of the forest. The only sign of civilisation he'd found in the woods was an old ruined hut, long abandoned. There hadn't been anything to salvage – even the wood that had made up the building had rotted as if over years of harsh weather and wear. Each step Hank took seemed to sink his spirit a little more. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd been dropped into a dead world, where all life had simply given up.

As he left the forest, his theory was proven wrong. A yellow blast scarred the earth just ahead of him. Ignoring his fatigue, Hank brought his bow up and aimed at the origin of the attack. The enemy was riding a black flying horse, similar to the one Hank had seen Venger ride on some occasions. But the rider was not Venger. He was encased in a suit of armour that looked like it had been made out of metal more suited for a tank. The armour was cruelly studded and spiked, and had once been pure white. But the armour was rusted, and most of it was orange and brown now. With every movement the enemy made, flakes of rusted metal drifted from the armour into the air. The person's identity was hidden by a featureless metal mask that covered the wearer's entire head. It had two slits at the eyes, one for the mouth, and was also very corroded.

"Are you the one who has stolen my power?" the figure demanded. His voice sounded familiar to Hank, but he couldn't place it. "Who are you? Step out of the shadows and reveal yourself!"

Hank prepared an arrow – still a red one rather than the gold ones that he used to summon – and stepped forward. "Whoever you are, I don't want to fight. I don't even want to be here. Just point me towards a town and I'll be on my way."

The rider didn't seem to listen. From the moment Hank stepped into the light, he seemed torn between surprise and outrage.

"What is this?" he hissed. "Who are you? Is this some sort of trick from the Shadow Walker?"

"No trick! I don't even..." Hank began, but was cut off.

"She dares to mock me? Then you can be the herald of her destruction!" The stranger produced a weapon from somewhere. Hank's eyes widened – it was a bow that looked almost exactly the same as the one he carried himself. But this bow showed the same signs of decay that its owner, and for that matter this world, seemed to have as their trademark.

The decayed bow fired a golden stream of light. Hank dived away, but the arrow curved and wound around his legs, bringing him crashing down to the floor. Desperate, he span onto his back and fired an arrow back at the stranger. As before, the bow fired with much more energy than it should have. Hank went skidding back along the floor, crashing shoulder-first onto a rock. The stranger summoned a mystical shield that barely saved him from the blast. His steed wasn't as protected, and fell limply to the ground.

"As I thought!" cried the stranger as he landed lightly on his feet. "I don't know how you managed to tap into my energy, but..." He paused as he looked at Hank's hand. Hank followed his gaze. His hand was almost completely covered in dirt, though the rest of him was still immaculate, even when his clothes should have been torn from the rough slide across the ground. The stranger shook his head, then tore off a rusted gauntlet. The stranger stared for a moment at his exposed hand, though Hank couldn't see anything unusual about it.

"Impossible..." the stranger whispered. He turned back to Hank. "I don't know what you are, nor how you're doing what you're doing to me..." He looked set to attack Hank again, but Hank had another red arrow aimed at him. "...but rest assured that I will discover your secret. And I will have my power back!"

With that, the stranger cast a teleportation spell and disappeared. The golden energy disappeared, freeing Hank's legs.

"What was that about?" the Ranger wondered. He looked around. He couldn't tell for sure, but in the distance at the foot of a small mountain, he thought he could see some sort of structure. With no other destination to reach for, Hank started walking. He needed to find out who his new adversary was and what he meant by Hank stealing his power – possibly something to do with his bow's odd behaviour, though he still didn't understand what that was all about. Most of all, though, he needed to find a way out of this terrible world, a way back to his friends.

---

Rosemary's house was one of the simplest huts Bobby had ever seen in the Realm. It looked more like a shed than an actual house, except that the wood that made up the building was better kept and varnished than a shed would be. The door was simple, but well made. The polished surface caught the light a little, just enough to attract the eye. Apparently, Sheila wasn't in the mood to appreciate well-treated wooden structures, as she rapped on the door hard enough to make a mark on the wood.

"Rosemary? Are you there?" she called sharply.

Bobby winced. His sister's voice had a harshness to it that wasn't usually present, and it hurt the Barbarian to hear her voice without its usual gentle tone.

"Sheila, I think you might be scaring her..."

"Answer the door!" Sheila demanded, ignoring Bobby.

A moment passed, then a quiet voice responded from inside the hut. "Is someone there?"

"What? Don't play games with me!" Sheila growled. "Just open the door. I need your help!"

Rosemary chuckled. "It sounds urgent. But I'm afraid that I never did respond well to rudeness. Good day to you."

Sheila clenched her fist and took a deep breath. She fought down the frustration and aimless anger that she was feeling and called out again. "Please! Dungeon Master said only you could help us!"

For a long moment, the Thief wondered if Rosemary was just going to ignore her. But then the voice came again.

"Dungeon Master?"

The door opened. Inside was a woman in her thirties by Sheila's reckoning. She had simple cloth clothes and wore her hair almost down to her shoulders. Her eyes looked odd, the pupils much wider than normal.

"Let me see..."

Rosemary peered into Sheila's face, though her eyes didn't quite focus in the normal way. Sheila got the uncomfortable feeling that Rosemary was looking right through her.

"Yes, I see. You would appear to be one of Dungeon Master's students. Though he doesn't seem to have taught you much in the way of manners."

Bobby interrupted. "Sheila's not normally like this. We've lost a friend of ours, and she's feeling bad about it. That's why we came to you."

"Lost? As in disappeared I surmise? Ah, Dungeon Master's pupils always have had a way of getting into the most unconventional of troubles. I suppose I should invite you in."

Rosemary led the two children into the hut. Bobby couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something odd about the way she moved. As she went to close the door, Uni darted into the hut. Rosemary frowned. "Odd. You don't have a small horse with you, do you?"

"That's just Uni. Our Unicorn. I hope you don't..." Sheila paused. "But...shouldn't you know that, or...?"

Rosemary smiled. "Go ahead."

"You're blind?"

Bobby gaped. "Blind? But Dungeon Master said you could see better than he could!"

"I am skilled with the ability to See, young one. The Mind's Eye, you could call it. But as I used my Mind's Eye more and more, I used my other eyes less and less, until one day I just couldn't remember how to use them at all. My regret to live with. But you didn't come here to hear my life's story."

Rosemary walked over to a chair by a small window, and Bobby could now see what it was he'd noticed earlier. Rosemary walked with slightly more caution than most people, as if walking a route by memory rather than sight.

"Why don't you tell me about your lost friend?"

---

Maybe it had been further away than it had looked, or maybe the sheer depression that this place caused in Hank was playing with his mind, but it felt like hours before he reached the mountain. The archway was as decayed as everything else in this world, but it didn't seem to be very old otherwise. Hank had seen enough of the familiar decay to realise that it wasn't time that had corroded the world. The cracks and dirt were only on the surface – underneath, Hank saw as he brushed away flakes of stone and grit, the rocks that made up the arch looked new. They weren't more than a year old.

"All this rotting away happened recently, and pretty quickly," Hank reasoned out loud, as much to hear a voice as to work out a conclusion. "Some sort of curse? Could I be affected too?"

Hank's hand was filthy, but the strange spread of dirt hadn't grown or shrunk since his encounter with the strange person in the forest. It might well be some sort of curse, but why had he started off filthy, then become completely clean when he first arrived? And would a curse of decay keep the parts of his body not yet affected so completely clean? Hank thought back to his fight with the stranger. When Hank's hand had become enveloped by the dirt, the stranger had torn off his gauntlet to look at his own hand – the only part of his body Hank had seen - which had not been dirty at all. Hank's bow seemed to be more powerful and less controllable, while the almost-identical bow of the stranger had actually fired arrows more like those Hank was used to firing. And the stranger had accused Hank of stealing his power.

Could Hank have somehow tapped into the man's power when he first arrived here? And could this strange dirt curse he had been inflicted with have come with that power? Hank didn't like the thought of that.

Inside the arch, there was a large tablet stating the purpose of the cavernous structure Hank was entering. The tablet was as damaged as the rest of the place, but Hank could read enough to work out what the place was. It was a memorial. There had been a battle between a group of heroes, though their names were lost in the cracks, and an enemy identified as the Antithesis. The heroes had fallen, and their remains had been buried here. There was no way to be sure, but Hank suspected that, given the probable recentness of the tomb, the man he had encountered earlier might well be the Antithesis.

Hank walked deeper into the tomb, entering the main chamber. And then he stopped. His bow slipped from his hand and clattered onto the ground. Hank slowly sank to his knees.

The room was occupied by two life-size statues acting as gravestones. Their epitaphs were faded, and the statues were slowly falling apart, but there was enough of a likeness there for Hank to recognise the two heroes.

"Eric? Diana?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Now, if you'd sprinkle the Coltsfoot in a circle..."

Bobby carefully sprinkled the herbs Rosemary had given him, while Uni sniffed inquisitively at the bag. Sheila was leading Rosemary to the centre of the circle, while the blind Witch was explaining to the Thief what she had in mind.

"So essentially, we create a small space of peace and calm, both around us and within us. As you concentrate on your friend, I will try to use your feelings and memories of him to search for him with my mind's eye, and then use that same link between us to allow you to see the visions I receive."

Sheila nodded. "We'll get to see where he is?"

"Possibly. But not necessarily what you might expect."

"What do you mean?"

"We could see a vision of your Ranger whever he has found himself. Or we could see what is present on the surface of his mind - visions of worries, enemies, allies, or dangers he is currently facing. Or we could be greeted with his mental landscape, an experience that can be more than a little surreal. Whatever we receive, we will have to translate and find the correct context to work out the appropriate action to take."

"Oh." Sheila sighed. Rosemary smiled.

"Don't be downcast, Thief. I'm sure if Dungeon Master was here, he'd tell you to keep hope in your heart."

Bobby laughed. "If Dungeon Master was here, he'd give us some confusing riddle, then disappear behind a tree just before Eric could grab him!"

"He still does that?" Rosemary chuckled. "Some people never change. Do you know, when I was a child my grandfather told me..."

Sheila gasped and almost tripped on the grass. Rosemary reached out and tried to find her arm.

"Sheila?" Bobby asked worriedly. "What is it?"

"I...don't know," Sheila said. "For a moment, I had a feeling of horror. Despair..."

Rosemary frowned. "Then perhaps we should start to search for your friend and try to bring despair to an end."

---

Hank staggered out of the tomb. A cold feeling tingled on his skin and held his heart in a tight grip.

It wasn't possible. Eric and Diana couldn't be dead. He'd seen them less than a week ago, just before Venger had tried to kill him, and he'd fallen through...

"The Door!" Hank cried. "What was it Dungeon Master said? Something about needing to focus when going through the Door? But if I went through the door without focusing, where did I end up? The future? Is this the future?"

Hank looked back at the tomb. If the Door had sent him into the future...what had happened while he'd been gone? Eric and Diana dead, this Antithesis person roaming around, the Realm decaying into oblivion. Why wasn't Dungeon Master here, doing something about it? Or Venger? Venger was very far from being an ally, but surely he wouldn't just stand by and let some other villain run around destroying the Realm he wanted to conquer.

Hank shook his head. What he was thinking didn't seem right somehow. He tried to calm himself down and think again. Eric and Diana were de...gone. But the tomb didn't have any signs of the others. And if they weren't buried here, then maybe they were still around, planning to stop the Antithesis. The Antithesis had also mentioned someone called the Shadow Walker, an enemy of his. Perhaps she could help.

Hank started to walk. He didn't know where he was going exactly, but he had a plan. Find the Shadow Walker, and his friends. Find out what had happened in his absence. And, if this really was the future, find a way back to his own time and ensure that none of this happened.

In the back of his mind, something bothered him. There was something he was missing, or had gotten wrong. But for the life of him, he couldn't put his finger on it.

---

"Breathe in...and out..."

Sheila focused on Rosemary's voice, and the slight tingling of her finger on the Thief's forehead. Dimly, she was aware of Uni bleating nearby, but the sound seemed to come from far away, from another world. It felt like the Realm was someplace else now. Sheila's new world was her mind, and it stretched out endlessly.

"Hank..." Sheila whispered. Somewhere in her own personal universe was her lost friend. All she had to do was reach out and find him. And as she reached, the void changed from the blank canvas of reality to a blur of colours and distorted sounds. There was movement, but the colours and shapes blurred together. There were flashes, sounds, and voices, but Sheila couldn't make them out...

"I'm worried..."

Was that Hank?

"...feel so much..."

Sheila felt a sudden surge of joy. She could hear Hank's voice! All she had to do was focus on it, find the Ranger through the shifting maelstrom of her vision.

"...come too far..."

The shapes settled, transforming into a blurry landscape. It looked desolate and rocky, with a black sky filled with glittering stars. It was inhabited - there was a battle taking place...

(I know this place...)

Sheila felt her thoughts echo across the landscape her mind was seeing, as if the entire scene was present in her mind, every rock broadcasting her thoughts like a choir of loudspeakers. The rapidly-clearing figures in the battle apparently didn't hear, or chose to take no notice.

(This place...it's...)

The scene finally cleared. Sheila could see who was battling. She could see Hank furiously firing arrow after arrow from his bow. Her other friends - and herself - stood behind him. And in front of Hank, Venger frantically deflected Hank's attacks, backing up to a pillar of rock.

(The Dragon's Graveyard! But why..?)

The ground around Venger split and collapsed as Bobby cut off Venger's escape, while Presto created energy restraints to hold Venger. Hank took aim, a conflicted look on his face that chilled Sheila as much now as it had when these events had actually occured.

"It's up to you, Hank." Eric's voice had none of his normal sarcasm or fear.

"What are you gonna do?" That was Diana, just as Shiela remembered.

(He pauses and fires. I look away, I can't watch...)

Hank's eyes narrow, his muscles tense...

(But he can't do it. He can't kill in cold blood, not even if it's Venger...)

The arrow fires. Time seems to slow. Her friends watch in horror, her past self turns away, clutching the critically-injured Uni, Venger's face is a mask of absolute terror, the arrow plunges into Venger's chest, blasting the enemy's body into pieces...

(NO!)

The arrow blasts the rock apart as easily as it tore through the man chained to it, streaking into the distance and fading from sight. Hank lowers his bow, his face bows for a moment...

(THAT'S NOT WHAT HAPPENED!)

"Hank..." Bobby's voice, only moments ago hatefully cursing Venger's existence, is low and afraid.

"You really did it." Eric stares at the blast site and the few macabre remains of their former enemy.

Sheila's past self turns, tears streaking down her cheeks. "What have you done?"

(I didn't say that! I didn't have to!)

"What I had to." Hank's voice was flat. "If I didn't, I'd stop us ever getting home, I'd let Venger keep terrorising the Realm - I'd be no better than him! I did it for us!"

Sheila screamed. Hearing those words - so similar to Hank's reasons why he'd spared Venger, yet twisted to justify the very opposite of what they'd originally meant - caused her screech to tear out from every part of her mind, shattering the scene and her vision.

"Sheila! Snap out of it!"

From a distance, Sheila could hear her brother calling her, she could feel his arms wrapped around her, his tears on her face - or were they her own? She could feel herself slipping out of the trance and coming back to reality, but she didn't feel ready for it. All she could do was to repeat one sentance over, like a mantra.

"That's not what happened..."

---

A village!

Hank almost laughed out loud. Finally, some sign of life in this foresaken place! Hank scrambled over the rocks and ran to the settlement, praying for inhabitants, not another ghastly ghost town like the one he'd landed in.

The village was as decayed as the rest of this world, but it wasn't abandoned. People shied away from Hank, and he could hear whispers as he walked. He wasn't suprised, what he'd seen of this world to date hadn't given him hope of a friendly welcome. That was fine. All he wanted was a meal and a place to sleep, and then directions to his remaining friends, or the Shadow Walker, whoever she might be.

Hank located the inn without much trouble and slipped in through the rotting door. The small group of people kept away from him while regarding him with cold glares. The innkeeper gave Hank a curious look.

"You're clean, stranger."

"Er..."

"That mean you're one of hers?"

Hank shook his head. "Hers?"

"The Walker. They say she's the only clean one left in the Realm, and that she can clean up her favourites. 'Course, they also say she can't be seen, so who knows if she's as Dirty as the rest of us?"

"I don't know her, but I'm looking for her."

The innkeeper gave a gruff, humourless laugh. "I'll bet. Guy with no Dirt? If you're not one of hers, you'd want her help before old Anti hears about you!"

"Aunty? Who's she?"

The innkeeper gaped. "You soft in the head, boy? The Antithesis? Evil monster, cursed the whole Realm, killed the Heroes, and the Dungeon Master..?"

Hank froze and dropped his bow in shock. "He...he killed Dungeon Master?"

"You must have been living in a cave the past three years, boy! Yeah, he killed the old man, not long after he did over Tiamat! How d'ya think the Dirt began? The old man thought he could talk some..."

One of the villagers cried out. "The bow! He's got the bow!"

"What?" Hank quickly scooped up the bow. "Sorry, I didn't mean..."

The villager glared at Hank. "That's the Ranger's bow, that is! Only one of those, like all the other Weapons! And we know where most of them ended up. That's HIS weapon!"

Hank frowned. "The Antithesis? He's using my bow? But that can't be...it came with me to this time!"

"Your bow?" The villager had a bottle in his hand. "If that's yours, then that means you're the Antithesis! Cured of the Dirt, and going around playing yet more of your games, eh?"

"That's ridiculous! I'm not..." Hank was cut off as the bottle shot towards him, barely missing his head. Angrily, he summoned a flaming crimson arrow to the bow. "Look, I don't want any trouble, so why don't we just..."

Immediately, Hank realised he'd made a mistake. The arrow caused a wave of shock, followed by panic to rip through the group. As the villagers started screaming about the Antithesis, Hank decided that it might be best to make a quick exit and find another village, possibly with a cloak or something to hide his features and his weapon. But as he came to this conclusion, an unseen assailent hit him in the ribs. Grimacing, he brought hiw bow to bear on...nothing?

"What the..?"

The Ranger heard a floorboard creak, prompting him to dive to one side. He felt something slice through the air, making a thin tear in his sleeve.

"The Shadow Walker is here! Run while they're fighting!" The villagers wasted no time in making their escape. Hank heard their cries and quickly called out to his attacker.

"Shadow Walker, listen to me! I came here to find you! I'm not the An..." Hank was interrupted as something hard and metal slammed against the side of his head. His vision blurred and darkness crept up on the edges of his vision. A voice reached him through his pain, fading in and out as his head pounded.

"Tell me one thing - how did you escape the Dirt?"

Hank's hand was stamped on by an invisible foot, and his bow was kicked away. As he sat up, what felt like the edge of a dagger pressed up against his throat.

"Well?"

Hank thought quickly. The Antithesis supposedly had his bow, and the other weapons - no, most of the other weapons, the villager had said. Which might mean that one of the weapons had gone to someone else after Dungeon Master had been killed. The Shadow Walker was invisible. Which could mean that she was wearing Sheila's cloak. But if that was true, then did that mean that Sheila was...?

The thought filled Hank with rage. His hand reached up and somehow grabbed his attacker's wrist, unseen or not, and twisted. A thin, cruel-looking dagger clattered to the ground, now perfectly visible.

"That cloak was my friend's!" Hank roared. "Where's Sheila!"

Hank's free hand aimed a punch at where he guess the Shadow Walker's head to be. His aim was off, instead hitting the Walker's shoulder, but with enough force to throw her aside. The cloak caught on a splintered table and pulled away slightly, enough to render the Walker visible. Hank grabbed the dagger and leapt on top of the Walker pinning her torso to the ground. And then he froze. The Walker, unlike the world around him, was indeed perfectly clean. She looked to be in her late teens, had long, rather tangled red hair, and light blue eyes.

"But you're..." Hank gasped out before Sheila brought the mace in her left hand up into his jaw and then down onto the back of his skull.


	4. Chapter 4

"Why couldn't I make them understand? I'm not a traitor!"

"Oh, but you are, Ranger."

The voices echoed with each throb of Hank's head. The pain reminded him that he wasn't truly asleep, but nor was he really awake either. Instead he travelled along the thin grey line between the world of reality and the world of his own dreams.

"Dungeon Master? You think I'm a traitor too?"

At the moment, his dreams seemed to dwell on one of his most painful memories, the time he'd been forced to work for Venger with Bobby's life at stake. His friends called him a traitor, which was horrible but understandable, not knowing his reasons why. But Dungeon Master had known, and had still admonished him, albeit for different reasons.

"Not in the way the others do. You are a traitor to your own courage and insight."

"But Venger has..."

The memory of Dungeon Master's voice was suddenly lost in a wave of mental static. Hank winced, whether physically or just in his mind he didn't know. The memory started again. Except this time, it was different.

"I would have thought you understood, Dungeon Master. I'm not a traitor!"

"Oh, but you are, Ranger."

"You think so too?"

"In just the way the others do, that you've blinded yourself to. You are a traitor to your own courage and insight."

"This is crazy! She was as much a danger as..."

Another burst of mental pain. Through the pain, Hank could just barely make out pieces of conversation. Some voices he thought he recognised, but in his concussed state, he couldn't be sure.

"...shouldn't have..."

"...maybe you want us to..."

"...you done...?"

"...the Dirt..."

"...shall give an outward reflection of..."

"...please, listen to..."

"...the Antithesis..."

"...won't let..."

"...last time..."

"DIE!"

"...Master's dead..?"

"...all against..."

"...on your head..."

"...you know what will happen. There is an old saying in these parts. 'He who has the answer and doesn't know it is just as lost as he who never knew.' You have the answer, Ranger. It is as close to you as the wind."

The memories settled into the familiar conversation, the only one Hank remembered ever actually happening. The sound of Dungeon Master's voice faded, and Hank painfully opened his eyes.

His vision was blurry, and his head still hurt, and the woman standing in front of him was a couple of years older than how he remembered her. For these reasons, it took him several long moments before he recognised her.

"Sheila..?"

Sheila narrowed her eyes. "That's Shadow Walker to you."

Hank shook his head to shake away his dizziness. As feeling came back to him, he realised he was upright, arms and legs spread and chained to a wall.

"What the..?"

"I ought to have killed you and finished this when I had you down, but this world's suffered enough. I need to know for their sake, how did you do it?"

"I don't...I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

"Don't play games with me!" Sheila pointed to Hank's hand. "That's the only part of you covered in the Dirt. The rest of you is clean. How did you manage it?"

"Sheila!" Hank cried. "Don't you recognise me? It's me! Hank! Why are...?"

Hank's desperate cries were halted when Sheila slammed her mace into his ribs.

"Don't give me that! Hank doesn't exist anymore."

"No, that's not true!" Hank gasped, coughing up blood.

"It is. You may have his face and his bow, but you're not him."

"I know what it must have looked like. I fell through the Ebony Door, you probably thought I was killed, but I wasn't! It threw me forward in time to now!"

"The Ebony Door? Forward in time?"

"Yes!" Hank pressed. "I don't know what's happened since then, but from my point of view it's only been a few days. Maybe two weeks at most. I found the graves of Eric and Diana, I ran into this Antithesis person, and then I find out he's killed Dungeon Master, Tiamat, Venger too for all I know! I came looking for the Shadow Walker I heard about, and she turns out to be you! Sheila, what's happened since I've been gone?"

Sheila looked mystified. "You...this...no! You're trying to confuse me! None of this can be true!"

"It's all true!"

The Shadow Walker's face hardened. "Then you won't mind me going inside your head and finding out for myself, will you?"

Sheila shuddered, pulling herself from her trance back to reality. Bobby was hugging her, and she felt Uni's horn prodding her in the leg as if trying to get her attention.

"That's not what...what?"

"Sheila? Are you OK? You're OK, aren't you?"

"I'm not...I mean, yeah, I'm alright."

Rosemary offered a cup to Sheila, which the Thief had to lean to her right a bit for. "Drink this."

The liquid was refreshing and cold, cold enough to make Sheila cough as she swallowed it too fast. "Thanks."

"Just some spring water. I swear by that and the occasional honeyed cake. I think I might have to make myself some after this experience. Tell me, did you recognise that place we saw?"

Sheila nodded. "The Dragon's Graveyard."

Bobby sounded suprised. "The Dragon's Graveyard? Is that where Hank is?"

"That is where all of you were, in the vision," Rosemary corrected. "Yourself and your sister, the Ranger and the Unicorn, three other friends of yours, and Venger. I will admit to being a bit suprised to see you there. It's said that no one may enter the Graveyard freely except for Tiamat herself. And maybe Dungeon Master, and I don't know if even he would risk that journey if Tiamat opposed him."

Bobby nodded. "We went there a while ago. It was actually Tiamat who took us there, to give us a shot at getting rid of Venger."

"Ah, then that is what we saw, your battle with Venger at the Graveyard. Except...no, that can't be right. Venger still lives, doesn't he?"

"Yeah. Hank got the chance do blast him to pieces, but he didn't."

"Damn right, he didn't!" Sheila snapped, causing Bobby and Uni to jump. "He'd never kill someone who couldn't fight back, not even Venger!"

"So, your experience in the Graveyard concluded with the Ranger sparing his foe. Nothing less than what I'd expect from a student of Dungeon Master. But that's not what happened in our vision."

Bobby titlted his head and stared at his sister. "Why? What happened?"

Sheila shut her eyes, and fought an urge to wrap herself up in her cloak. Invisibility could be very comforting, but there were some things even her cloak couldn't hide her from. "He killed Venger. Destroyed him utterly. He was just so cold, shrugging it off as what was needed to do. Rosemary, why did the vision change what happened like that? What does it mean?"

"I don't know. It is quite common for a vision to show moments from a person's past or future, but less so to take a moment from the past and actually change an event. The question here is if we were looking for the location of your friend in the present, why would we get an altered vision of an event from your past?"

Hank looked frantically from Sheila to the two people she had brought in. Sheila had refused to answer any more of his questions, and her friends were both giving him looks of utter hatred. Hank couldn't understand why. It was as if at some point between his present and this future he'd done something awful to Sheila. But even if he could have done something to destroy their friendship so completely, and he couldn't imagine what he might have done to do that, how could he have done it if he'd missed several years after the Ebony Door incident?

Sheila's friends were carrying an item each. The man was holding something Hank recognised - a net. Specifically, the net from the Dragon's Graveyard, the one Dungeon Master had used to cure Uni. The girl was carrying a crown, which Hank assumed would also have come from the Graveyard. The Ranger didn't know what power it held, but he had a nasty suspicion, remembering what the last comment Sheila had made was.

"Sheila, for the last time, what is...?"

Sheila didn't even look at Hank as she swung her mace into his stomach, cutting him off painfully. She nodded ad the girl, who then walked over to Hank and put on the crown. She touched Hank on the forehead, and Hank's world suddenly faded into intense nausea. It was as if someone had plugged a television directly into his brain and was channel hopping with incredible speed. It didn't hurt exactly, but there was a profound sense of vertigo, and Hank felt himself reeling.

With no warning, the experience stopped. Hank groaned, barely lucid. He heard voices, loud, quick and argumentative, but he couldn't make out what they were saying...and suddenly, he was back in the vortex of flashing scenes and pictures. This time was different, though. He kept seeing a certain scene, a familiar one. One of him standing under the night sky, bow raised, Venger restrained in front of him. His bow firing, the flash of light as he chose to set Venger free than to murder in cold blood.

That one moment, freeing Venger. He saw it again. And again. And again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again...

And then back to reality once more. Hank was gasping, and his vision spun. He felt a sharp, unpleasant taste in his mouth, and he realised he had vomited. As his vision stabilised, he glanced down at himself. His tunic was remarkably clean for someone who'd just thrown up on it. Suprise suprise, he mused.

"It's impossible," a voice said. Her voice. Hank raised his head with considerable effort. Sheila was looking at him, with an expression of confusion and disbelief on her face.

"What's...?" Hank took a deep breath and tried again. "What's impossible?"

"I had Chantelle look into your mind. Your memories and your thoughts. They're all wrong."

"Wrong how? Just tell me, what's going on? Why are you doing this?"

Sheila shook her head in amazement. "You were telling the truth. You really aren't him?"

"Aren't him? Who? The Antithesis or som..." Hank froze mid-sentance. A horrible thought had struck his mind. A reason for Sheila's hatred. An explanation for the change in his bow. A reason for the words of this new enemy he faced.

"It's impossible," he said, echoing Sheila's words. Every fiber of his being denied it, rebelled against the idea.

"Sheila, am I the Antithesis? Did I really kill Dungeon Master? And Eric and Diana?"

Sheila's face had grown cold. "Just them? Not asking about what happened to Presto? Or what you did to my brother?"

Hank slumped in his chains. "No...this can't be happening!"

"It happened. I was there. I saw what you did. And I curse myself for not finding a way to stop you." For a moment, Sheila looked like she was going to attack Hank, but she restrained herself. "Except...if what Chantelle saw is true, and she's never been wrong in this before, that wasn't you. She says you have no memory of killing Bobby, or the rest of our friends, Dungeon Master, Tiamat, all those innocent people...but you do remember what happened to Venger at the Dragon's Graveyard, don't you?"

Hank didn't respond for a long moment. When he did, his voice was quiet and cracked. "Yes."

"What do you remember happening?"

"We fought him. I won. I had the chance to stop him for good. I didn't."

"Is that what you remember?"

"Yes. I spared him. And every time he turns up...turned up, I always remember that day, and I always wonder if I made the right choice."

Sheila shook her head. "Sparing Venger was the right choice. It was what a hero would do. What a good man would do. But that's the problem, Hank. I was there that day too. I remember what happened. And that wasn't the choice you made. I remember you murdering Venger. And that's where it all started to go wrong."


End file.
